


Suffocate

by Laerkstrein



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Love/Hate, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laerkstrein/pseuds/Laerkstrein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She will not be named traitor for the sake of his blood on her hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suffocate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://niger-ut-niveus.livejournal.com/118423.html) on my LJ comm on 12.05.12.
> 
> Alternate events in _Thor_.

Sif lays beside him, her robes absent, cast haphazard upon the floor. The emerald shade of the curtains hang over the windows in silence, a suffocating reminder of where she is, even as the moon wafts in ribbons across the bed coverings. After so many days and nights, it all still feels very much a dream. Perhaps a nightmare.   
  
Her eyes wide open, she leans off to the side, fingers curling around the leather sheathe of that thin blade what had been hidden in her garment. A hand she lifts, gaze darting from it to the god in quiet slumber beside her. King, he calls himself; all of Asgard calls him. The traitor Son of Odin, to whom the mantle of the kingdom has supposedly fallen.   
  
She knows, has always known, that things had played out as Loki had intended. Thor's banishment had been but the key to turn the lock. The Odinsleep, a fortunate mishap. All had served his greed for power.   
  
So easily she could kill him where he lies. Drive the point of her fine silver dagger through his lying tongue, allow the blood of a serpent to stain red the sheets.   
  
Yet she lays the dagger down again.  
  
Holding her breath, Sif leans over as his pale eyes crack open. Loki would not know he had slipped away were she to slay him now. He breathes slowly, her fingertips brushing against the hollow of his throat. How easily she could curl her fingers into his flesh, strangle him, if she so wished.   
  
She lays her lips upon his, feeling abruptly ill as he takes hold of her, rough as he bites, hands held tight against her hips, far too eager to taste her blood warm on his tongue.   
  
Sif swallows her disgust, her disdain for the fact that she has been chosen, named the next queen of the Aesir. But it is all a show. Only a means with which to keep his eye on her, keep her silent.   
  
And as much as she hates Loki, wishes him dead, dreams oft of tearing through him herself, Sif will not be named traitor to Asgard for the sake of his blood on her hands.


End file.
